


Antiquated Insults from a twenty-something year old

by AnythingElse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnythingElse/pseuds/AnythingElse
Summary: Hey, Brock, it’s me. Bucky Barnes. Remember me? No? ‘Cause I sure as fuck remember you, you goddamned pediculous rakefire. I don’t know where the fuck you are, but I hope you are miserable.ORThe wrong number AU in which college student Bucky accidentally texts Captain America Steve.





	Antiquated Insults from a twenty-something year old

**Me:** Hey, Brock, it’s me. Bucky Barnes. Remember me? No? ‘Cause I sure as fuck remember you, you goddamned pediculous rakefire. I don’t know where the fuck you are, but I hope you are miserable. I hope spiders crawl in your mouth while you sleep. You fucking ASSHOLE. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I did NOTHING to you. I’m now fucking homeless, penniless, about to be scholarship-less. You fucking wrecked the old place and since they can’t FUCKING FIND YOU, I apparently am supposed to pay for the FUCKING HOLES YOU PUNCHED IN THE WALL. AND GUNSHOTS?! WTF, DUDE?! I go home for my grandfather’s FUNERAL….and you wreck the place & get us evicted and now I’m living out of my car and you have the fucking audacity to disappear and leave me with this mess? They are garnishing my fucking wages and I’m not going to be able to afford the summer class and you know how much this means to me, how could you do this? If I can’t get credit for that class, I won’t qualify for the scholarship in fall semester. I’m fucking cold and hungry and THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.

You can go fuck yourself, Rumlow. With a cactus. You pretentious coccydynia.  

 

Hitting send, Bucky shifts uncomfortably on the threadbare futon. Upon finding a half-empty bottle of vodka in his buddy’s freezer, Bucky had proceeded to down the whole thing. He'd started the endeavor tipsy but was feeling regretfully drunk now. 

 

The summer had started out badly when he got a call from his mom, telling him his grandfather passed away. He and his parents had pooled their savings for a plane ticket. Upon returning a mere six days later, Bucky came home to an eviction notice taped to their front door. Inside the apartment was total chaos-- it was like a brawl had broken out. There was a shattered window, a broken door, and holes in two of the walls. Most concerning of all, however, were three bullet-holes in the living room doorframe. 

 

Trying to be as rational as possible, Bucky called the police first. They had responded to reports of a disturbance and entered the apartment with force when shots were fired within. There was nobody to be found, but evidence of a fight and the broken window was probably means of an escape. 

 

Calling the property management company next, Bucky finally heard some good news-- since he had evidence of being gone during the altercation, he could press charges against Brock to clear his own rental record and clear all fines against himself. So, Bucky set out using all means possible to search down his (ex) roommate.

 

Now, two months later, Brock is nowhere to be found. The rental company is holding Bucky accountable for damages and sent his case directly to a collection agency. They got approved to garnish his wages and started doing so immediately. His meager campus library job barely paid the rent before, and now Bucky is homeless & hopeless. Some nights, like tonight, he finds a friend to stay with. Most nights, however, he sleeps curled up in the passenger seat of his Ford Taurus. 

 

Bucky knows he needs to buck up (pun intended) and call his parents. They had  _ begged  _ him to stay in Indiana and go to the local community college, but Bucky wanted bigger, better things. So far, he'd been handling things, but he was already two weeks late on his summer class payment schedule. Yesterday he had finished his last bag of Ramen Noodles and in 3 weeks, his cellphone will hit max-overdue status and be cut off from service. Sighing, Bucky rolls onto his side and wills his problems away. If it wasn't for his class schedule, he would have time for a full-time job or even a second part-time one. However, the class schedule assures he maintains his scholarship. It is a catch 22 and Bucky is flat out of options. 

 

Briefly wondering why his cellphone is glowing at 4AM but too drunk to care, Bucky drifts off into an alcohol-enhanced slumber.

 

\-----

 

One of the only perks of a campus job was the luxury of having the weekend off. Whoever is knocking incessantly at the door, however, must have missed that memo. His friend, Lane, had spent the night with his girlfriend (hence why Bucky had accommodations for the night). It's never good manners to answer someone else's door, but the pounding is making his headache worse. Dreading what could be on the other side of the door, Bucky opens it hesitantly. 

 

There, standing doorstep, is a kid wearing the Amazon Fresh grocery delivery uniform. “Delivery for Bucky Barnes.” The kid motions to a small pile of grocery bags.  Knowing Lane cannot afford such luxuries, Bucky scowls.

 

“Yeah, there's been a mistake. This is a prank or something. Those aren't mine, sorry kid.” Stepping back to retreat into the house, the kid stops him. 

 

“Sorry. Mr. Barnes? The memo clearly states that you'll think that & to assure you they are yours. They are paid for already.” The kid plasters on his best customer-service smile, but Bucky can see the worry etched into his features. Remembering that he is homeless, needs all the miracles possible, and also looks like a murderous hobo… Bucky smiles and accepts the groceries. His nose leads him to a rotisserie chicken and he digs in like a wild animal while reading the attached letter.

 

**Bucky,**

 

**I received your text last night, but you did not answer your phone when I tried calling you. You seemed like you could use a hand, so I had these groceries sent to your phone's location. That is a gross invasion of privacy, so I apologize profusely.**

 

**-SR**

 

Six times, Bucky has read the letter and he  _ still  _ doesn't quite understand. First ( and foremost) mystery person SR would have been committing a criminal offense by tracking his phone…. _ simply to send him groceries?  _ Also, no matter how he reads the letter, it's an apology. For sending him food. Like he could possibly be mad about that.

 

Finally remembering the aforementioned phone, Bucky combs through his blankets to find it. It has, of course, died during the night. Heaving a sigh, Bucky plugs it in and resumes his breakfast. Twenty minutes later, Bucky is waiting not-so-patiently for his phone to power on. Finally, after 30 seconds of animations and logos that even Cinemasins would be impressed by, the phone lives again! Expecting an onslaught of notifications, Bucky is greeted with only one missed call and zero texts. There is not even a voicemail. He quickly changes the contact name and opens his inbox.

 

**Me:** Are you to thank for the oddly stalkery but incredibly appreciated groceries?

 

No answer comes and it's been 15 minutes. Giving up, Bucky grabs his duffel and heads to the bathroom. After a shower and brushing his teeth, he's ready to start his day. A quick rummage through the shopping bags reveals mostly non-perishables. Relieved, he packs the food into his bag and locks up the now-empty apartment.

 

Bucky is in the middle of an essay when his phone vibrates next to him. Pushing aside the bag of corn chips & guacamole he'd been snacking on (thanks to the mysterious SR), Bucky glances at the screen.

 

**SR:** Apparently I have access to technology I am not supposed to have. 

 

**SR:** Apparently what I did was illegal. 

 

**SR:** I am really, really sorry. I thought that the 'locate number’ thing was a modern convenience. Not a secret privilege.

 

The messages all come in rapid succession and Bucky is cracking up. Somehow, in texting Rumlow, he managed to find a confused super-hacker. SR definitely seems harmless enough. And kind-- no harm done. 

 

**Me:** Honestly I'm only grateful. (And maybe a little curious?) How did someone so lawfully unaware hack the GPS with such ease?

 

**SR:** Lawfully unaware?! I am aware of plenty of laws!! Most of them, in fact. However, I was unaware that the GPS system wasn't consented by the other party. 

**Me:** Easy there! Sorry to accidentally question your obviously strict morals. But, one would assume, if you are  _ hacking a GPS signal _ , the other party is generally unaware.

 

**SR:** Well, at least my morals are no longer in question! I do want to reiterate, however, that there was no hacking involved. I simply hit the 'show location’ button. That's not hacking! I just utilized my options. Only, I had no clue I want supposed to  _ have  _ (or use!) said options. 

 

**SR:** But, really, I am so sorry for the invasion of privacy.

 

**Me:** You sent me chicken. And guacamole. All is forgiven. ;)

 

The texts stop, then, so Bucky resumes work on his essay. It's an easy topic, so his mind is free to wander. He wonders about the odd events of the last 48 hours. He knows to be wary of the strange responses coming from not-Brock, but he also  feels insatiably curious as to who this SR is. The ability to hack a GPS locator on a phone is difficult for even seasoned tecchies. The ability to turn such technology into functional widget? Very few people could accomplish that. 

 

Curiouser and curiouser. 

 

\----

 

Steven Grant Rogers, AKA Captain America, feels sick to his stomach. 

 

Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man, is mildly concerned but also laughing his ass off. “Ok, let's go over this one more time. You committed a criminal offense to send a stranger  _ groceries _ ?” He pauses, so Steve nods his head. “And, now, you want me to help track down a missing person? For this stranger you know nothing about?” Steve nods in confirmation. “Ok. What's the name?”

 

Steve isn't sure if he should be incredulous or grateful, but he rattles off the name from the text. Tony is unpredictable on his best of days and Steve was expecting an argument of some sort. Obviously seeing his friend's reservations, Tony explains himself. “Look, Steve...I'm bored.” And, with that, he walks off humming some showtune. 

 

Honestly, Steve isn't sure he could have provided an answer as to  _ why _ he feels so inclined to help this stranger. Something about it just feels  _ right _ . 

 

\-----

 

**SR:** Hey stranger. You awake?

 

It's 2AM, so he shouldn't be.

 

**Me:** Yuup

 

**SR:** This is going to sound insane but I'm pretty sure you've come to expect that from me so far. My friend--- the one that accidentally gave me an illegal GPS hacking button-- I asked him if he could help with finding your not-friend, Brock. He said yes. You still want to find him?

 

Bucky stares at the dim light if his screen. What is happening? He doesn't understand. This is too good. All of it is too good to believe. He should probably shut off his phone. Go have his number changed on Monday. Forget all about this (obviously insane) mysterious SR.

 

**Me:** Ok

 

**SR:** Ok! 

 

**SR:** He says to give him 48 hours.

 

**Me:** Well you know where to find me! ;)

 

**SR:** Is that you consenting? 

 

**Me:** Sure

 

**SR:** That's not a clear yes, so I'll abstain.

 

**Me:** Yes, SR, you may look at my location anytime. But, I would like to have a name,first. So I can know who's stalking me 

 

**SR:** Steve. And should I even ask why you're in a parking garage?

 

**Me:** Free parking on the weekends.

 

On a whim, Bucky snaps a photo of his makeshift dinner. He is eating a can of soup (from the can) and a slice of bread. He hasn't eaten this well (or healthily!) in months. 

 

**Me: Sends pic**

 

**Me:** PS- thanks for dinner!!! I really do appreciate it.

 

**Steve:** If you need anything else, please just ask me. 

 

**Me:** Thanks, Steve. Goodnight.

 

Bucky finishes eating and curls up on his side. He isn't really tired, but he just couldn't keep talking to Steve. He is just… _ too nice. _ Bucky has never met anyone so kind in his life, and it's throwing him off. He's been on his own for so long and it just feels good to have someone helping him out. Someone to depend on.

 

_ You don't know him, stop feeling like you can depend on him. Idiot. _

 

\----

 

The pounding rhythm of fists hitting the bag is almost soothing. Steve can feel his steady heartbeat  _ thump thump thump  _ in time with the punches. He cannot remember the last time he was this angry and he can't even do anything but wait. Grunting, he throws a punch that bends the frame holding the bag. He heaves a sigh and heads for the showers.

 

When he first got the text, he thought it was a death threat. Having seen 'Bucky’ and 'Brock’ he had thought they were codenames or something of the sort. He was already halfway through when he realized the message wasn't meant for him. Feeling invested, he had finished the message. He had cracked a smile at the mostly non-violent snips and felt his heartstrings tug at the general message. 

 

He had decided to call the number to offer help & set things right, but the other number didn't answer. Struck with inspiration, he hopped on Amazon Prime and arranged for some food to be sent to 'Bucky’. All his contacts had a small blue world icon next to them that instantly sent him coordinates, and Steve just figured that was another Big Brother type normalcy of 2018. Tapping the button to receive the address, he sent the delivery. 

 

He sought out Tony after that to recruit him for tracking down 'Brock.’ In between peals of laughter, Tony explained to him that the 'location’ button was meant for finding fellow agents,  _ not  _ civilians. And that it is a technology that is not only illegal, but completely non-mainstream. In other words, he had (with good intentions!!) Committed a criminal offense and stalked a poor, unsuspecting college student with top-of-the-line StarkTech.

 

Oops. In all reality, though, he can't say he regrets anything. He hadn't really thought twice about sending groceries to the first address in Brooklyn. However, knowing such a sweet kid was eating cold canned soup in a parking garage made Steve want to punch things. And fix all of Bucky's problems. It's hard to judge much off of texts, but Steve could tell he liked the kid when he first called this Brock fellow a ‘pediculous rakefire’. His witty banter despite his desperate situation just sealed the deal.

 

\----

 

**Steve:** Did I send you anything suitable for breakfast?

 

Bucky grins and snaps a photo of the mini doughnuts he is currently enjoying. 

 

**Me: Sends pic *eating like a king!***

 

The photo, however, was a bad idea. Having endured much more use than usual lately, the word 'goodbye’ popped up on the screen before going dark. Since the library is closed on Sundays, Bucky heads to the 24hour espresso place down the road. After his student discount, drip coffee is $0.98-- one third of his remaining account. 

 

Being an optimist, Bucky has been putting every penny possible towards his upcoming class payment. He hopes that 'good faith’ will pull him through at least another month. He is stalling the inevitable but not ready to give up yet. Heading towards a table in the back that has two outlets available, Bucky explicitly ignores the aching muscles in his body. 

 

Once powered on, his phone chirps happily with a message. And then another. And then another.

 

**Steve:** Eat something healthy, too! There should be canned fruit. Unless you want fresh? I can send fresh fruit!

 

**Steve:** Did I overstep my boundaries? I'm sorry. I know I can be overly helpful at times. 

 

**Steve: Sends pic**

 

The photo attached has a cute drawing of various fruits declaring their unique health benefits. However, it's not the adorable characters that catch Bucky’s eye; it's the slightly tanned and oh-so-muscular arm  _ holding  _ the sketch. Bucky swoons.

 

With a smile, Bucky snaps a pic of his coffee. Embracing the 'work smarter, not harder’ ideal, he links a wiki page of coffee’s health benefits.

 

**Me:** I did one better

 

**Me: Sends pic *link attached***

 

**Steve:** Careful, I know how to find you now!

 

**Steve:** Oh God! That sounded so much better in my head! And so much less stalkery! I'm sorry!

 

**Steve:** And this is why I never get invited to social gatherings

 

Bucky would have responded sooner, had he not laughed so hard that coffee almost came out his nose.

 

**Bucky:** LOL

 

**Bucky:** We are eventually going to have to breach the topic of how, exactly, you can stalk so easily with the push of a button.

 

**Steve:** But not today?

 

Bucky may be reading into it, but Steve sounds hopeful.

 

**Bucky:** Not today.

 

**Steve: Sends pic**

 

The next sketch is a cute strawberry cheering and saying 'yay!’. There is also a little arrow pointing down to the strawberry that says 'hint hint’ in very tiny all-caps. Aching joints and exhaustion aside, Bucky feels happier than he has in ages.

 

It's about 4 hours later that he sends Steve a reply. It's a photo of his can of pineapple, but with a few odds and ends from his backpack he had attached little arms to it. The left one was flipping him off. Hoping it wouldn't be taking things too far, he hits send.

 

**Steve:** I just snorted milk out my nose.

 

**Bucky:** Proof or it didn't happen

 

**Steve: Sends pic**

 

The attached image is a metal surface with milk splatters on it. A large hand is pointing (not with his pointer finger, but  _ with his middle finger _ ) in from off-screen at the mess. Bucky stifles his laughter and quickly types out a reply. This mystery Steve may just be the the answer to all of Bucky's problems. 

 

**Bucky:** Just for that, I'll eat the peas for dinner!!

 

\----

 

Bucky is slowly shuffling towards the school library. He is an hour early for work, bit has nowhere to go in-between class and work. If Mrs. Jones is working today, she will let him slip into the little sick-bay and take a nap on the cot. As much as he  _ hates _ taking advantage of kindness, he always unlocks the sick-bay window so that he can loop around after his shift. Three nights a week with an almost-comfy bed are what keep him functional during the rest of each week. 

 

It's about halfway through Bucky’s shift when he receives the text.

 

**Steve:** Found him.

 

**Steve:** Do you have a case number for the police report?

 

**Bucky:** 5623722 

 

**Steve:** Permission to share Brock Rumlow’s location with authorities in order to  assist with your case?

 

**Bucky:** Granted! Please. Thank you.

 

Bucky realizes, suddenly, that he just shared the case number with a talented hacker. Sending it to the (ex?) phone number of the person of interest. Bucky also realizes that he just doesn't care. Worst case- the dried up case against Brock mysteriously disappears from the police records. Best case….well Bucky doesn't dare hope for that.

 

Phone silence hangs heavily on Bucky's subconscious. He is doing everything possible to ignore that he hasn't heard from Steve in over 6 hours. Campus has finally closed, so he is circling back around to the fire escape behind the library. He climbs on the trash can, hops onto the brick wall, and wills himself steady. This next part hurts if he doesn't get it right. Sprinting straight at a brick wall, he uses his momentum to scale it and hook his fingers over the top. Scrambling up, he shimmies over about 6 feet and drops silently onto the fire escape outside the bay window. 

 

Slipping silently into the room, a sharp noise shatters the silence. Freezing with fear, Bucky looks around for the source. Then, feeling like an idiot, he slips his phone out and silences it. Once his erratic heartbeat calms, he reads the waiting messages.

 

**Steve:** Should I even ask how you ended up living with Rumlow?

 

**Steve:** I can't say much yet, but you'll want to watch the news tomorrow.

 

**Steve:** Oh… I probably should have led with this- Rumlow's location has been verified. Police are currently closing in on his coordinates.I will give you more details when I can.

 

Bucky feels a heavy weight lifting off his chest. Feeling dizzy and giddy, he feels tears of relief start to pool. Blinking it away, he stares in awe at his phone. 

 

**Bucky:** Steve…. I cannot even possibly thank you enough. You don't even know me and have helped me so much.

 

**Bucky:** Thank you. Is there anything I can do to repay you?

 

The tears are coming rapidly now, and Bucky slumps on the little cot. He feels hope and relief and happiness. He feels _ good. _

 

**Steve:** As a matter of fact, yes.

 

**Steve:** I need you to…

 

There is a pause, and Bucky wonders if he should panic. He doesn't  _ have _ anything to offer. Oddly, though, he just can't muster the energy to fear the response. So far, Steve has been an actual saint. No matter what he asks for, Bucky will do what he can to make it happen.

 

**Steve:** Eat your damn fruits and veggies. And ask if you need help.

 

**Steve:** I paused for dramatic effect & then someone came up to talk to me! I'm so sorry!! 

 

**Steve:** Don't feel like you owe someone if they do you a kindness. Just know you deserved it & move forward. =)

 

**Bucky:** Thank you, Steve. 

 

Snuggling into the cot, Bucky rides the wave of happiness and falls into a blissfully uninterrupted sleep.

 

Upon waking up, Bucky quickly gathers his belongings and leaves for the cafeteria. Glancing at his phone, he stops dead in his tracks. There are 3 missed calls and 11 unread text messages on his phone, plus a few notifications from random apps. Thumbing open his inbox, he finds scrolls to the first one-- it's from Steve at 4:18 AM.

 

**Steve:** Brock Rumlow is now in police custody

 

The next one came in at six in the morning 

 

**Steve:** it's your decision, of course, but I would avoid talking details to anyone until this is settled. As it stands, you have a pretty solid counter-case. 

 

In order to avoid temptation, Bucky pockets his phone and enters the cafeteria. They have a small courtesy section of free food, and the earlier you arrive, the better your options. Today, there is cereal, milk, bananas and muffins! Score! He chooses carefully before retreating to a table in the farthest corner. As convenient as it would be, Bucky never takes more than a single serving of food. He knows there are students that have it harder than him. 

 

Now that the rumbling of his stomach has been quieted, Bucky pulls out his phone. He figures that he won’t reply to any messages yet, but his hunger for knowledge is insatiable. He is quickly distracted, however, by the ‘BREAKING NEWS’ article suggested by Google. Skimming the article, he notes specific details. 

-Local crime syndicate brought down by authorities

-Rumours that Iron Man was involved

-Among the top arrests made is Brock Rumlow

 

Head spinning, Bucky reads through his inbox. It’s mostly Lane, Cora, and his family mentioning they saw Brock on the news an asking if he’s OK. He quickly types out a canned response that he sends to each of them stating that he is fine, but unable to talk about the situation yet. He browses through the other articles and opinion pieces, but barely retains anything. Brock Rumlow has been caught. Bucky Barnes, walking bad-luck charm, may be able to go on with his life after all. He is smiling to himself as he absentmindedly clicks on a YouTube video listing ‘The Truth Behind Last Night’s Arrests’. He watches, in stunned silence, as grainy footage shows Iron Man leading the city’s best to an abandoned warehouse. He seems to be communicating with them through comms, as he gestures and they all fan out. Placing some sort of blasting devices around the building’s side wall, he blows the wall. Those inside are caught completely by surprise and none make an escape-- except Iron Man himself. He blasts off moments after ensuring there are no runners.

  
  


Bucky screenshots the clearest frame of Iron Man and pulls up ‘Steve’ in his phone.

 

**Bucky: Sends pic**

 

**Bucky:** I think this explains everything.

 

**Steve:** Tony never can seem to stay out of the spotlight.

 

**Steve:** Are you mad? I’m sorry.

 

**Bucky:** Are you kidding? Iron Man himself just aided in my freedom. I cannot even fathom everything that has happened to me this week. 

 

**Bucky:** Also, I understand why you were trying to keep a low profile. Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come across as accusing. Truly, thank you. 

 

**Steve:** I’m happy I could help. 

 

Bucky didn’t mean to sound disappointed, he really didn’t. He had just started to feel a  _ bond _ with Steve. His fantasies had gotten away from him and he’d been picturing Steve as some do-good football player. Someone who had it easy with a full-ride, but could also see those around them suffering. But  _ this… this changed everything.  _ Steve was an adult. Some do-gooder who probably did good for a living. Bucky wasn’t  _ special _ to Steve. Bucky was just another case to solve. Another helpless person to help. Grunting angrily at his phone, he silenced it and pocketed it. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he was an idiot. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Bucky had gone and gotten a huge crush on the mystery guy helping him out. No, Steve probably worked for the local food bank, donated to charities, and hung out with the likes of Tony  _ Fricken  _ Stark. No, Steve was the special one. 

  
  


\----

  
  


It’s been four weeks since Bucky last talked to Steve. The other party had tried texting him exactly three times. After Bucky had snapped at him-- reminding Steve that he isn’t a damn charity case and to mind his own business-- Steve had apologized and stopped trying to text him. 

 

It’s been four long, lonely weeks since Bucky last talked to Steve. The counter-sue against Brock Rumlow is in process and collections against Bucky have been dropped. They are no longer garnishing his meager wages, but things have not progressed much more than that. Bucky is still living out of his car, eating a few times a week, and generally miserable. He has exactly 18 days to finish paying for his summer semester before he gets dropped from his scholarship. 

 

It’s been precisely 12 minutes since Bucky last picked up his phone to text Steve. He’s not sure why he had such a hard time accepting Steve’s kindness after finding out he works for Stark-- it just seems like he’s only being nice for his job. And that makes Bucky feel like a burden, which he hates. But, if he’s being honest with himself, he misses talking to Steve. He misses the cute little drawings, the snarky comments, and the overly cautious friendship the other tried to initiate. Biting his lip until the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth, Bucky takes a deep breath and hits ‘send’. 

 

**Bucky:** I’m sorry.

 

He doesn’t get a response that night. 

 

He sleeps in his car and he absolutely does not cry himself to sleep.

 

The next morning, he hits the labs early to finish work on his final project. He puts all his frustration, all his anger, and all his sadness into the piece. The ideas, research, and science (that took him 4 weeks to complete) were actually the easy part. Now, he has to manufacture a functioning prosthetic arm. Buried in schematics, wires, pneumatics, and electrical components, Bucky is lost to the world. They are given unrestricted lab access for 48 hours, and he plans on using every last minute of this time.  

 

He finishes the project and submits the working prototype in exactly 46.3 hours. 

 

Bucky Barnes passes out from exhaustion and malnutrition. He is rushed to the hospital. If he was awake, he would have fought with everything he had left. Doctors are a luxury that he simply cannot afford.

 

\----

 

Steve Rogers is a mess.

 

After four weeks of radio-silence, the kid he’d been texting with every day sent him a simple two-word text. ‘I’m sorry’. And then turned off his phone and disappeared.

 

Generally calm and composed in the face of chaos, Steve Rogers  _ lost his shit.  _ (As Tony Stark so eloquently put it.) He is now in the gym belowground beating the life out of his…. Sixth, apparently, punching bag. Nat had come out of the shadows briefly to offer to spar, but he’d turned her down. He needed the soothing, predictable rhythm of hitting the bags. This was getting to be a ritual of sorts when it came to dealing with the emotions that accompanied Bucky Barnes.

 

He had agreed to give Tony 24 hours to solve the mystery of Bucky Barnes before stepping in himself. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what he is expecting from the kid. He’d just enjoyed the companionship of someone who treated him  _ normal. _ And then Steve had to go and fuck it up by being Steve. After finding out who he was, Bucky had abruptly stopped texting him & his attitude changed completely. Steve had tried apologizing, poking fun, and even offering more help-- the last of which had been the final nail in the coffin. Taking offense, Bucky had ensured Steve that he was not just another charity case. And that was the end of one of the shortest but most intense friendships Steve had experienced. 

 

\----

 

It’s dark all around him, and Steve panics for a second, thinking he is under ice again. Flailing out, he hears someone shouting his name. Blinking into the light that suddenly fills the room, Steve regains his bearings. That’s when he realizes that Tony has returned, but there is a grim look paining his features. 

 

“Hey, buddy, you with me?”

 

“Yeah. I’m back. What did you find Tony?”

 

The other man shifts nervously. “You’re not gonna like it, Steve. I found him, but you need to go about this carefully.”

“Tony.” Steve’s voice comes out in a low warning.

 

Before Tony can even finish rattling off the address to the hospital, Steve has vaulted up the stairs and is entering the garage. He grabs his leather jacket and fishes his keys out of the pocket. Straddling his bike, he revvs the engine as the garage doors open. Free at last, Steve shoots out into the night air. Grateful he put on his jacket, he watches his speedometer flicks towards 85. Realizing for the first time that it’s nighttime, he glances at his watch. Glowing ominously in the dark, it reads 3:45. Visiting hours are definitely over, but being Captain America has its perks.

 

Pulling into what is definitely not a parking spot, Steve hops off his bike and beelines for the large rotating doors standing between him & Bucky Barnes. There is a quiet intensity lingering in the air as he walks towards the service desk. There are flashbacks of another era threatening the edges of his vision. He is holding his mother’s frail hand in his as the beeping of monitors lull into a steady sound. Shaking his head violently, he reminds himself of his mission; Find Bucky Barnes. He can do this. He is Captain America and his fears will not own him today.

 

Smiling his brightest smile at the receptionist, he does what he does worst and lies through his teeth. Somehow buying his story that he has a friend here that he couldn’t visit during the day without drawing attention to himself, the sweet (definitely starstruck) woman lets him through the double doors. He stands outside the door taking deep, calming breaths. Bucky is fine, just sleeping off severe exhaustion. Steeling himself, Steve knocks quietly as he enters the room. The sight before him causes him to freeze in his tracks.

 

There, sprawled out before him, is the most beautiful man Steve Rogers has ever seen. Soft moonlight is washing over his face, casting shadows and shining off his hair. Bucky looks to be about 22, has longish brown hair, stubble, and Steve Rogers is  _ so fucked.  _ This is not what he was expecting. He may be in a state of malnutrition now, but Bucky definitely has spent plenty of time at the gym. His mouth gently pouts as he sleeps, his fists clench the pillow, and there is a small crease between his brows. In all his years, Steve has never seen anyone look so simultaneously determined and fragile. This man has experienced so many hardships and yet refuses to give up. And, in that moment, Steve suddenly understands.

 

What he wanted so desperately from Bucky wasn’t friendship-- it was something more. Somehow, in the midst of caring for this stranger, getting to know him, and sharing himself, Steve fell in love. The realization hits him, hard, like a semi punching through his gut. Unsure what to do with it, yet, he files it carefully away next to all things ‘Steve’. He is, after all, Captain America. He had thought that Bucky saw him for who he really was, but after getting so angry at him for his identity, Steve really can’t be sure. Unable to help himself nonetheless, Steve reaches forward and gently smoothes the furrowed brow. The sleeping man sighs and seems to relax a bit. Satisfied, Steve pulls up a chair and rests his head on his knees. There’s nothing left to do but wait. 

 

\----

 

Bucky Barnes blinks sluggishly and stretches his aching body. The bed he slept in last night was surprisingly comfortable. Rolling onto his side, he notices a hot blond dozing in the chair next to him and grins. What a nice view to wake up to! As he sinks back into sleep, he thinks he sees the figure move. 

 

Like every other sane person for the past decade, Bucky Barnes has had his share of fantasies about the Star-Spangled man. No, what's odd is perhaps the G-rating of this particular dream. He is seated across from Captain America at some old-timey diner. They are eating and laughing as little strawberries dance across the tabletop. At one point, a dark shadow starts closing in across the diner, but a gentle pressure near his head erases the darkness and gives way to sunshine again. Bucky smiles over at the blurry but oh-so-recognizable blond across from him and feels himself relax on a new, deeper level.

 

The second time Bucky wakes up, he is much more aware of his surroundings. Partially, he assumes, because he can hear the bustle of the world moving around him. He feels a twisting in his gut as he notices an IV sticking out of his skin. Panicking, he goes to rip it out--- each bag of IV is upwards of $300 without insurance. He doesn’t even want to think about how much his comfortable night’s sleep is going to cost him. Despite his feeble efforts, his limbs are not moving, and Bucky worries for a second that he may be paralyzed. Taking deep, calming breaths, he then realizes there is a warm hand hindering his movements. The hand isn’t gripping or hurting him, but is holding down his movements with frightening ease. These nurses here must deal with some crazy situations to get this strong, he thinks. 

 

His eyes are closed as he mumbles a stream of curses into his pillow. A strangely familiar voice softly admonishes “language.”

 

Still with his head in the pillows, Bucky poutily protests “you don't get it, man. They had no right to bring me here. I've been here too long already. I gotta go.”

 

“Bucky?” The deep voice is filled with concern, and something twinges in his subconscious. “Are you in trouble? What's going on? Why can't you be here?”

 

Bucky knows he is whining, but he's just so damn  _ tired. _ “No, not anymore.  _ He  _ took care of that for me. But now I'm on my own again. And….” He trails off. Why is this pathetic confession spewing from him so freely? He really should get his bearings and get out of here. “Ican’taffordthehospitalbills.” He rushes through the last part, just to finally feel the bitter relief of defeat. He knows the doctor couldn't have understood him.

 

“Ohh, Buck. I  _ told you _ . One simple favour-- ask for help when you need it. Why are you so damn stubborn?”

 

Bucky vaguely realizes this doctor know him a little too well for what should be on the typical patient chart. Also, doctors don't usually sit beside their patients bed’s and stroke their back comfortingly. 

 

That moment is when Bucky finally realizes what's off-- the doctor has been calling him 'Bucky’. The hospital staff would have him down as he's registered on his student ID-- James Barnes. Heart pounding and suddenly feeling very awake, Bucky confronts the man with all the strength he can muster.

 

“Steve?” His voice squeaks out, betraying him completely.

 

A low rumbling laugh accompanies the answer. “Well, yeah. Who else were you expecting?”

 

Bucky turns his body over carefully to respond, but his voice chokes out as he comes face-to-face with none other than Steve Rogers. He blinks to clear the fantasy. Blinks again. And then gives in. “Wait, are you telling me that YOU are SR?!?”

 

The blond man looks sheepish. “Yeah? I thought you knew? I thought that's why you stopped talking to me? You told me you understood why I didn't tell you who I was.” Steve, oddly, seems like he's rushing through the words. As if  _ Bucky  _ is the one who might just up and leave in a moment's time. 

 

_ Well, you did just that to him last time, remember?  _ An unhelpful voice in his voice pipes up.

 

“Steve? Rogers? Captain America? Sent me groceries?”

 

Bucky isn't sure why every word seems to be coming out as a question. He assumes his brain short-circuited. 

 

“Guilty?” Steve responds with his own, quiet question. 

 

“I, uh, thought you were someone who worked for Stark. Like, some charity-going guy who does good things for the rewards. I…  _ ohmygod, _ I was disappointed because I found out you weren't a student. I was worried you'd be disappointed when you found out it was me, because you made me feel special when you didn't know who I was.” 

 

Bucky is so confused. He, realistically, has always had a crush on Steve Rogers. But SR was someone he connected to on a personal level, or so he thought. But….

 

Steve's voice interrupts his thoughts. “Bucky? I'm real confused right now.”

 

Trying to summarize, Bucky tries for “I felt special when you helped me. When I thought it was your job to help me, I felt betrayed. So I ran away from the feels.” His heart is pounding erratically again, and suddenly Steve's big, warm hand is on his arm again, grounding him.

 

“Buck?” He pauses, so Bucky raises his eyebrows in response. “I need you to hear my side, ok? I didn't help you because I'm Captain America. Or even because it's my job-- I helped you because I wanted to. You sounded like you needed a helping hand and, honestly, it was a little selfish of me. Your antiquated insults made me laugh and I wanted to get to know you. Then we started texting and, _ damnit! _ ” The exclamation takes Bucky by surprise, but he doesn't interrupt. “I've known you for less than two months and it's like a lifetime,but also not nearly enough. I'm sorry, Buck, I am. I had no right to pursue you. Helping you… I didn't do it for your attention, I promise. I wasn't trying to  _ buy  _ you or bribe you or anything. I just… I wanted to know you.”

 

By this time, Bucky is staring at America's Greatest Hero, slumped over in a tiny hospital chair. His speech was jumbled, confusing, and utterly heart-wrenching. Steve thinks that Bucky stopped talking to him because he tried to help. Because he's Captain America. But, really, he had ran away because he had started to crush on the stranger and  _ then _ found out he was out of his league. 

 

Realizing they might just want the same thing after all, Bucky steeles himself for the inevitable. Obviously sensing his adrenaline rush, Steve looks at Bucky with concern burning in his eyes. Riding the rush, Bucky grabs the blond and hauls himself up to meet the other man's lips with his own. Stopping at an appropriate 90/10 ratio, Bucky says “I need a clear yes…”

 

Steve's arms are suddenly wrapped around the younger man and their lips are being crushed together with burning intensity.

 

Bucky has a feeling the worst summer of his life was just a precursor to the best year of his life! 

 

(So far…)


End file.
